white keys
by another moment gone
Summary: one-shot. Joshua Hotz pays a visit with Todd Lyons. He learns that in life, there are going to be black keys and white keys. He witnesses an undying love and the cruelty of war. *R&R* -another moment gone-


w_hi_te k**e**y**s**

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><p><strong>-<br>**_**"Spiritless" –Moises Nieto**_

There is something about music that makes it so untouchable. It's unattainable and impossible to grasp with lean fingertips. There is no dividing line that conquers the entire piece, no note outshining the other.

Life is like a piano: the black keys represent the worst of times and the white keys represent the best of times. But when played together, they make up the very basis of life itself.

Josh Hotz has had his fair share of black keys.

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><p>-:-<p>

He didn't want to go to the damn nursing home. Who cares if he was on probation? Who cares if he stole and ran with a few possessions that weren't his?

He didn't belong in a stupid nursing home filled with crippled strangers that were mere seconds away from their deathbeds.

It simply wasn't his ideal place to spend the summer.

But the minute that Judge Luce hammered the gavel onto that ivory wooden pedestal—things were final.

"One month," she declared, eying him in a fashion that was probably meant to be meaningful—but in realty meant nothing to him—and dismissed them.

"A month is better than juvenile detention," his mother stated, not meeting his eyes.

"Damn right it is," his father added gruffly. "But then again maybe a little detention would do you good, son."

Josh stared back blankly at his father. Was he supposed to add his dimes to this discussion? What would be the point of _agreeing_ with them?

"You'll be starting tomorrow; 6:30am."

The decision was made.

-:-

The first thing he noted about the nursing home was that it smelled like old people; a very unpleasant amount of gurgling and grumbling and the occasional _hi there sonny _comments from the elders. One woman even touched his polo with her shriveling hands and asked him if he was her son.

He's been in the room for a mere ten minutes.

"I hear you play the piano," the lady at the office said. Josh didn't reply because he didn't have to. What did he owe this lady? _Certainly not an explanation_.

Awkwardly, the studious office lady smiled, "These people are very nice. They have lots of stories you will remember for the rest of your life. Consider yourself grateful."

Josh grunted and said nothing more.

Another woman barged into the small waiting room. "Joshua Hotz?"

Josh stood up.

"Nice to meet you Joshua,"

"Josh," he amended gruffly.

"Josh," the lady repeated frankly. "Come with me, Josh."

They walked for a few seconds, "I'm Alicia. I help tend to the patients and set the volunteers, like you, up with the residents. You'll stick with the same patient this month while you're here because he does not have any living family members and quite frankly, could use the company."

She led him quickly to a small, narrow hallway. "I have to warn you," she began in a hushed tone, "he doesn't say much. In fact, he doesn't speak, period." She reached for the doorknob. "Just keep him company. That's all."

She knocked twice then opened the door slowly with her right hand. "Todd Lyons? Hi, it's Alicia. I'm here to introduce you to a potential friend: Joshua—Josh Hotz." She blushed when she realized she almost messed up his name again.

Todd Lyons just stared emotionlessly at the two.

"Go awn in," Alicia muttered under her breath. "Lunch will be served in forty minutes."

Josh shuffled his meet into the compressed room; eyes shot down onto the white and faded-green tiles. They checkered around the almost-vacant room. Todd was perched in a wheelchair, staring out the window with an expression similar to his own.

Blank.

Josh leaned against a blank wall awkwardly and noticed a portrait above, presumably, Todd's bed. It was an old framed photograph of a young lady—black and white—her eyes were cat-like and her head was tilted slightly to the right; she was laughing pleasantly.

"Are you going to say something?" Josh demanded somewhat rudely. Todd looked at him with vacant eyes.

"Guess not…" Josh trailed. "Who's in this photo?"

This job wasn't ideal, this _plan_ wasn't ideal, but this question was random and solely the only thing he's spoken from his mind lately.

Todd didn't even turn need to turn around to glance at the photo; there was only one photo and the rest of the walls were a bare off-white.

"Her," he murmured so quietly Josh had to strain his ears.

"Who's her?" Josh found his young boyish curiosity in his heart again to ask this old man.

Todd barely had much grayish white hair left on his head, and he was as wrinkly as a prune. Josh idly wondered how old he was.

Todd didn't answer and immediately Alicia's description of the man entered Josh's mind. The woman was right; this old guy barely said one word to him and it's been a long awkward five minutes. Josh glanced around the room again.

The bed was made and it was so neat, Josh had to wonder if someone came in and made this man's bed; or if Todd just didn't sleep at all. The portrait above his bed was dust-free and there wasn't a single fingerprint that Josh could see. The walls were so white and dull; the rest of the bureaus were dusty and looked as if they hadn't been touched in years.

"Who is she?" Josh repeated.

For the first time since Josh stepped into the oddly cold room, Todd turned to lock eyes with him. Todd had a peculiar face; the sort of face that could not possibly be conjured up in dreams, but maybe drawn on a piece of paper as a random doodle. He had the greenest shade of eyes, even at his age that Josh had ever seen. He was strangely thin and it was evident that his youth had been long gone.

"My wife," he answered quietly.

"Does she live in this retirement home too?" Josh's questions were becoming rather personal and he knew it. But his curiosity always seemed to get the best of him.

"No," Todd answered curtly, not offering any sort of following explanation.

Josh hesitantly sat on the bed; it sunk under his weight softly. "Where is she?"

Todd turned back towards the window once again, his eyes glued to the vast sky. It was a perfect shade of sky-blue.

"I don't know," his voice was hushed and it sounded as if it was strangled. Josh stared at him, hoping for more words.

"What do you want to do?" Josh asked finally. He stood up and walked towards Todd by the window.

"I don't know," Todd croaked.

The one minor detail of this entire room that Josh overlooked was the black, dusty mahogany piano. It had to be years and years old. He slowly walked over to press his fingers to the key.

"You play?" The sound of Todd's question surprised him.

"I used to," Josh pressed his fingers daintily onto the keys. The keys appeared to be tuned; however there was no bench.

"Can you play for me?" Todd asked this with the sort of hesitance that Josh recognized in Alicia's voice when she knocked on his door.

"No," Josh frowned. "I'm not good at piano, anymore."

"I recognize you," Todd's eyebrows scrunched together. "I just can't figure out from where." Josh squirmed; _was it from the papers when they wrote in the police log that he was a criminal? _

"I know," he breathed, "you played at funerals."

Josh's brown eyes widened and he glanced around the room. "I—"

"Yes," Todd confirmed his own thoughts, "you played well. Please play again." Josh had no idea where Todd would've heard him play; who's funeral did he attend?

Once again, Josh was going to repeat his distaste towards the idea of playing for this stranger with a checkered past, but he found himself frowning. "Fine."

-:-

"_**Moonlight Sonata" –Beethoven **_

The first few notes were the steps he took into this condensed room. The following notes were the moments he breathed heavily, in order to figure out how to play again. And the next notes he played were smooth. By the fifteenth note…everything came back.

"Moonlight Sonata," Todd breathed, his paper-thin lids were closed tightly as he let Josh whisk him away. "It was 1955," he began. "The war had just begun. Should I even mention how many young boys, _boys_ were drafted at ages such as 18 or 19? They've barely just begun their lives." Todd closed his eyes. Josh stopped playing and Todd's eyes shot open. "Keep playing."

Josh obliged without another response; despite all of his efforts to not play—it felt so damn good to play again.

"The fighting was scary; sometimes it was just so loud. But eventually, your ears adjusted but you, _you_ never grew accustomed to the surrounding deaths around you. I swear on it," he breathed deeply and slowly shuffled his feet towards the piano. Very slowly, he brought a stool for Josh to sit on as he played. He continued to play, effortlessly moving his fingers all along the keys. Todd took a seat on his bed.

"The Viet Cong wanted us dead and that fact alone was enough to drive a man crazy," Todd's eyes were closed but he could assume what daunting terrors shook the man up. "I was patrolling," he began, "when I was shot."

Josh's playing slowed down and the music became haunting and terrorized. He didn't say anything though.

"I was shot right on my shoulder. Somehow I didn't die though…" He trailed of thoughtfully. "I could've sworn I saw my life flash before my eyes. I thought death was coming…but it didn't.

"Next thing I know, I'm in a white room with beepers and nurses scuttling around," he paused for a moment, the next part seeming to be the hardest of them all. "She stood next to my heart monitor; it beeped mighty fast, Josh. I found myself blushing because she noticed the increase in my heart rate. She stood there, all brown hair and small figure and whatnot. But when she came over my bedside," now he closed his eyes and sort of smiled. "She had the most beautiful eyes—amber, how peculiar. She watched me with such an intensity."

He visibly shuddered. "I went back to the war once I was all patched up," he continued, "but not before getting her address. I told her I'd write her every chance I got. And she stayed with me every day in the hospital before I left." He stood up and reached under the bed. He pulled out a steel box that was rotting.

"So that's exactly what I did—we wrote each other every chance we got. And I've got each and every letter saved." Josh continued to play but he was more focused on the image of this beautiful woman that Todd described.

"Once the war ended in 1975 the war ended officially, but us American military men were pulled out in '73." Todd thought for a moment. "I was so young and naïve to think that war wouldn't last long. That war wasn't worth fighting for, if you ask me."

There was a knock on the door. And immediately the keys halted.

"—Lunch time?" Alicia asked with a head peaked through the door.

-:-

"_Adagio in G minor" –Albinoni _

Josh returned to the nursing home off of Prospect Road for the next few weeks. He took his time playing songs that would help Todd Lyons recall his painful memories.

Mostly though, Todd liked to talk about this brunette with amber irises that reminded him of the fierce intense part of her attitude. Josh didn't mind listening and Alicia was dead-surprised when Josh admitted Todd had been talking to him.

This was week three.

"We wrote each other for years, Josh," Todd was once again talking about this woman. To be quite frank, Josh was more interested in the war scenes of the Vietnam war, not Todd's love life. "But then…"

Todd suddenly got very quiet and his face contorted with all its mighty wrinkles. Josh stopped playing pressing the keys; his fingers were cramped; Todd's sudden silence kind of made Josh jump to conclusions—something bad.

"But then," Todd's voice was nothing but a whisper, "I stopped receiving letters. I kept sending letters and no reply. The war had been over now, for maybe a week. They were still pulling out troops, and workers such as nurses."

Josh picked the piece he was playing now to match Todd's broken expression. "Then what?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Then," Todd whispered, "nothing. No letters, no _nothing_. I never gave up though. But soon, the letters were returned and not received at all."

Todd shook his head back and forth slightly. "I couldn't believe it at first." He leaned back onto his back on the bed, his arms crossed behind his head. "I was just so…"

Josh stopped playing altogether because Todd's pain was palpable in this little room. "—tired."

"Then what?" Josh asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Years passed and now I'm here, rotting in this hell of a place that might as well be a jail cell. But you know, sonny? I can't help but know that my girl would kill me if she knew I was moping around. She wouldn't tolerate my bullshit, no sir."

Todd locked eyes with him for a moment, the pain seeping a little bit.

"I miss her, you know." He added more so to himself. "I even sent her a ring in one of my letters," he said, "she said yes and we were gonna marry the minute I got home. Nothing too fancy, but fancy enough to let the world know I love her with all my heart."

Josh was struck coldly by the tragedy of it all. The shock was strong.

"I'm sorry," Josh whispered.

Todd shrugged. "I'm a lonely old man but I had the best kind of love. And even though I'm not with my girl, I've got music to keep her alive." Josh moved from the piano and allowed Todd to press his cold fingers to the keys.

_("on my way" –_Yiruma)

He played slowly and weakly but the notes were nonetheless beautiful; startlingly beautiful, actually.

"I know you're not a bad kid," Todd caught him off guard. Todd didn't even look at Josh; he was too entranced by the music. "I can tell a mean man from miles away and you just aren't one. But let me tell you some advice, alright boy?"

Josh glanced at Todd but he refused to meet his gaze.

"Don't let war and greed let your heart go cold," he warned, "love makes a man soft. Just don't throw it away if you've got something good."

_Greed…_

"Okay," he whispered.

"Time for your pills, Mr. Lyons."

"What was your girl's name?" Josh finally asked.

"Massie Block; the beautiful extraordinaire."

"How do you know me?" Josh asked. "I mean, recognize me."

Todd's eyes fluttered closed. "You played at her funeral."

-:-

The next time Josh returned to the nursing home, Alicia frowned with sad eyes. He barged into the little white box room but the bed was made and the portrait was gone. It was as if Todd Lyons never existed.

"I'm sorry, I know he became your friend."

Josh couldn't help but hurt more than ever.

"He left you a note," she handed him a white envelope. "He told me to give it to you; right after his nap."

Josh opened the note with trembling hands.

_Josh,_

_I had an extravagant dream last night. I was playing the piano for Miss Massie Block once again in the hospital. She was singing along and swinging her feet gracefully. Then she told me it was time. She took my hand, and led me into bright lights. I woke up shortly after, knowing exactly what was going to happen. In my dream, she spoke to me. It was as if she was real. She told me she was sorry for not writing back; a helicopter went down. She told me she loves me still and wants to spend eternity with me. _

_The best part Josh?_

_She never stopped loving me._

_Thank you helping me reach closure. I hope you learn something from this all and I hope you meet a pretty lass that loves you the way you love her._

_Good luck. _

_-Todd L._

Mrs. Hotz picked Josh up at exactly 3:00pm. The minute she did, she couldn't get the chance to utter him a word because he was gripping her tightly and crying into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

-:-

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><p>Kind of depressing… but it was a good thought I hoped.<p>

Review possibly?

-another moment gone-

ps: don't favorite without reviewing.

Pps: I'm tired of hearing your comments about my mistakes; it's a place to get out my feelings, not be perfect. So I apologize in advance for my sloppy mistakes.


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